


Non ducor, duco.

by Astrea (starwished)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bottoming from the Top, Cock Tease, Dominant Ignis Scientia, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage, NSFW, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Teasing, can i just love that dominant ignis scientia is a tag, gets sappy at the end, u degenerates :3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:04:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwished/pseuds/Astrea
Summary: They marry after the dawn returns.  For two people who have known each other their whole lives, in different lights and incarnations, their honeymoon brings another unexpected color to their relationship.





	Non ducor, duco.

**Author's Note:**

> For Protea, who made me blind when she said she couldn't picture Ignis being dominant

There was a flicker of understanding in the front desk attendant’s eyes before she nodded and set to the task of registering them. “Amicitia-Scientia,” she repeated at last, confirmation she’d found their reservation in the system. “Honeymoon suite.”

Ignis bristled at her knowing tone. Gladio grinned and reached out to accept the keycards from her, just to hand them off to Ignis. “Do we need to sign anything?”

The woman shook her head. “You’re all set. If your husband needs any specific amenities, we have a number of handicap accessible—”

“No, we’ll be fine,” Gladio assured her, already on the way to the elevator with their luggage and Ignis in tow. “He’s got me.”

Galdin Quay had done its best in the years following the return of the dawn to recover its former glory. It was a delicate feat, to establish industry and commerce while restoring the natural terrarian beauty the quay had always been known for. But the little berg had accomplished that, and to great success. So it was only natural they return, to share in their celebration with a celebration of their own.

“So what do you want to do first?” Gladio asked, tossing himself back onto the king-sized bed, evincing a grunt as he landed hard on the too-soft mattress. “We could go to the beach, have dinner … Whatever we do, I’m going to need a shower first.”

Ignis was quietly arranging their toiletries in the adjoining bathroom, smiling to himself as he awaited Gladio’s expected forewarning. “Of course,” he said naturally, softly, almost to himself.

But Gladio made no move to join him, instead stretching out upon the bed with his arms folded neatly behind his head, a picture of repose. “Can you imagine what it’s like to be such a condescending person?” Gladio mused, staring up at the ceiling in distracted amusement. “Talking about you like you’re some sort of invalid.”

“She was only doing her duty,” Ignis chided him, emerging at last from the bathroom to lean against the doorframe with an indulgent smile for his overprotective husband. “It’s not as if _you_ don’t talk about my being blind and functional as anything less than a miracle.”

“Okay, but it’s not like _that_ ,” Gladio insisted, sitting up in his vehemence. “I’m not saying it like … ‘oh, poor Ignis, what a tragedy,’ or anything. It’s more like …. I’m just really proud of you. You know?”

Ignis pushed off from the wall, following the sound of Gladio’s voice with a languid stride. “I might take that as equally condescending,” he reasoned lightly. “If I were so inclined.”

“Well, _I_ don’t know how I could function,” Gladio insisted, though the words fell away as he found himself distracted by his husband’s approach. How many years had it been, and he was still enthralled with the sight of his inveterate grace, of his incomparable beauty, the sound and the swell of his voice, the mere nearness of him that had always set his heart to a foolish canter?

Ignis’ slender fingers unfurled to press just under Gladio’s navel to steady himself, enough that he dared a knee pressed between the willing and eager part of Gladio’s thighs. “There are worse things, Gladio.”

Gladio obeyed the suggestion of those guiding fingertips, sinking back against the bed with a low, commodious sigh. “This feels kinda dirty,” he confided, his voice taking on a certain intimate indulgence. “Like you’re gonna tie me up. Or something.”

Ignis’s brow twitched, though his mouth curled into a perfectly charming crescent of a smile. “Is that a complaint or a suggestion?”

Gladio pushed his lips out in an effort at contemplation, to stem the too-pleased grin that menaced in the wry twist of them. “Not sure,” he answered, the smile now brash and besotted, both.

Ignis’ own smile settled into something carelessly askew as he lowered himself onto the perch of Gladio’s lap, who was predictably already piqued, his _interest_ growing indurate against the soft of his inner thigh. Ignis laid a hand upon Gladio’s bare chest, pressing against the quickening pulse there. “I wouldn’t need to restrain you. Because you’d do as I say.”

“Is that right?” Amusement and doubt both engendered his question, his hips raising to alleviate a little of the budding heat between his thighs.

“Describe the bed to me,” Ignis instructed, and the imperiousness, the confidence with which he delivered the command— as if he knew full well Gladio would comply— sent a splintering shiver down Gladio’s spine.

“Pretty,” Gladio replied pertly, and received a light, grazing smack to his thigh that elicited a low, groan from him.

“Is there a headboard?”

“Yes,” he replied. Dutifully this time.

“Put your hands on it,” Ignis ordered, softly. “And don’t let go. Unless I permit you.”

Gladio laughed, a breathless diversion that belied the exhilaration permeating every nerve in his body. And yet he obeyed, raising his arms above his head to press his palms flush against the tufted leather headboard.

Ignis’ hands smoothed across the swell of Gladio’s chest in tandem, moving up to broach the peak of his shoulders, the length of his arms, noting the position of his obedient hands at last. He smiled then, mild and pleased, and leaned down to lay a brisk kiss to Gladio’s lips in reward.

“Good man,” he lauded, slipping back off the bed, and Gladio’s shoulders sagged in disappointment at that loss of that blessed weight upon his lap. “You wouldn’t happen to remember which bag you packed your—” His fingers wriggled as he searched for the word. “Appurtenances.”

“It’s in there,” Gladio replied, forgetting himself, chucking a chin at the nightstand to the right of them, forgetting what a lacking response that was.

“Where?”

“The nightstand,” he elaborated, realizing his mistake. “I unpacked them already.”

Ignis reached down to open the drawer, feeling around until he drew out a sleek, chrome vibrator, and a small bottle of lube. “Already?” The question had only a hint of judgment in it, as he tossed the toy upon the bed, where it landed just by Gladio’s hip.

“I got excited.” It was a plaintive answer. Almost petulant.

“I hadn’t even finished putting away our clothes and toiletries,” Ignis laughed.

“I got excited!”

Ignis shrugged the suspenders from his shoulders—first one, then the other— the action of which succeeded in silencing Gladio, who was presently rapt in an exhilarated delirium of anticipation. He watched as Ignis methodically undid every button of his oxford shirt, noted the exquisite revelation of the pale skin mapped with a constellation of cicatrices. The desire, the need to reach up and draw him close, to kiss those scars until his skin remembered the adulation of his lips before the agony of injury, was a congenital need. But Gladio stilled, his hands never leaving their post. Just as Ignis predicted.

Ignis allowed his trousers to hang provocatively from the prominence of his hips for a moment, knowing full well Gladio lay ensorcelled at the sight of him, delighting in the display. A low, caliginous groan sounded through a long sigh from Gladio’s lips, stoking the embers of imperious hauteur within Ignis, that came with the repletion of being utterly fucking adored, and knowing it. One last indulgence before he pushed them down to bare himself entirely, fully, for him.

Gladio let out a sharp sigh at the sight of him, that was quickly regained when Ignis’ slender, adroit fingers undid the front of his jeans. His eyes flickered shut at the brush of the hallowed hand too close to his straining cock, and he huffed a strained laugh into the air, his head lolling back in subjection to that brilliant sight.

“Lift your hips,” Ignis instructed, and Gladio did as he was told, sucking in a breath through the dam of his teeth. Ignis’s nails scraped lightly at the juts of his hip bones, sliding fabric from them with a measured care. He bent to kiss the hollows of Gladio's hips in amelioration of the sting; a brief concession before he mounted him, seating himself upon the throne of his broad lap once more. It was there where he reigned in absolute sovereignty to Gladio’s submission.

Where he belonged.

But Ignis wasn’t content to stay perched upon his thighs, sidling himself upwards, his cock dragging along the length of Gladio’s, the midline of his stomach, until his knees bracketed the breadth of Gladio’s ribs.

“I’d ask what’s gotten into you, but that feels like looking a gift horse in the mouth,” Gladio quipped, the half-nervous laughter dying away as Ignis rose to his knees, his devastatingly beautiful cock in his hand. He watched as he passed a few strokes to bring it to its full bloom, before pushing the head of it to Gladio’s lips. The latter’s eyes were wide as saucers, surfeit with surprise superseded by astonished wonder, as he stared down the perfect shaft of his husband’s hardness.

“Do you object to it?” Ignis asked, amused, though he fully anticipated the sputtering refute that ensued.

“Object!” Gladio laughed, his hands shifting their positions though never leaving their posts. “No. Gods, no. I’m— fucking _never_ upset to witness you wanting something of me. Literally anything of me.”

Ignis grinned, one of those wry, knowing smiles that looked far too fetching on him than it had any business being. “All I want in this moment,” he began, a velutinous delicacy to his voice as he reached down to thumb affectionately at the peak of Gladio’s cheek. “Is your obedience. And then, perhaps, I shall demand your cock.”

Gladio bit back another groan, a protracted sigh rumbling through his chest. His skyward gaze remained trained upon Ignis, his lips parting for the advent of his tongue, that gave a slow, deliberate lick to his slit. It was meant to tease and to tantalize, but had the regrettably adverse effect to his own composure. With a low moan he pushed himself up as far as he dared, his lips closing about the head of Ignis’s cock, sucking hard enough to pull him nearly fully within his mouth.

His tongue laved circles to the underside of his hardness as he strained to take him deeper, every pass of that slick like silk threatening to draw a premature end to their congress, but Ignis’ hands alit upon his shoulders, pushing him back down. “Easy,” Ignis admonished lightly, dislodging himself from the searing heat of Gladio’s mouth and edging slowly back down into his lap again.

Gladio groaned at the weight and warmth of Ignis’s ass against the injudicious rise of his own hardness, an ecphonetic pleasure echoed even more deeply as Ignis doused his fingers with the lubricant and reached behind to feed a few fingers within himself. Perhaps the drop of his jaw, the quiet sigh, the part of his lips like a flower in bloom were a little theatrical—for Gladio’s sake, of course—but that allowance was soon overtaken by the sharp, ingenuous moan swallowed down by the hitch of his breath as he felt the broach of Gladio’s cock upon the crest of his ass.

Gods, he missed that stretch, that perfect repletion of Gladio’s ungodly thickness filling him entirely, distracting him from all other thoughts beyond the aching pleasure of it. Even just half the head of it had been enough to draw a distracted laugh from Ignis’ lips, the remembrance of that now-foreign sensation flooding his skin with a diluvial absolution, and earning that soft smile that invoked that perfect puppy dog admiration Gladio near-always wore whenever he had the occasion to look upon Ignis.

“Been a while,” Gladio commented through a shit-eating grin, and Ignis acknowledged the inevitable cocksure tease with a wry smile glanced down his nose at him.

“And whose choice was that?” Ignis swat at Gladio’s hips, already rising to meet his.

“Mine.” The admission came with little abashment. Really, none at all. “I just wanted it to feel … new. You know?”

Ignis’ fingers curled graciously around the impossible thickness of Gladio’s shaft, holding him in place as he pitched forward to land a kiss to his parted lips. “Bored already? Need something to reignite your interest?” Ignis asked archly, in that serious, inquisitorial way that sent Gladio into a defensive panic without thinking.

“No, no, not at all, you know that.” Gladio’s assurances came as quickly and as ardently as expected. “It’s our first time … married, you know? And we’ve been at it so long that I just wanted it to feel…. significant. Not because it stopped feeling that way. I’m fucking sentimental—you know that— I wanted it to feel… I don’t know. Momentous. Like our first time. Or something.”

Ignis sat up in rumination of that, propping himself up with one hand on Gladio’s chest, pushing out his scarred lips as he remembered. “Our first time, I was so nervous I was nearly terrified. I was convinced you’d make a ruin of me. So you laid me bare upon your bed and held my cock in your hand whilst you fingered me until I came upon your navel. And then you fucked my thighs and left me lying in that mess while you composed yourself for a quarter of an hour. Thereabouts.”

Gladio laughed. “Sounds about right. Though it was more like a few dreaded moments of disgust on your part. Because if I recall correctly, I did pull you on top of me.”

“To hug me.”

“Yeah, because you were cute.” Gladio shook his head. “Fuck, you were cute. You’re always fucking cute.”

“You always say that.” It was an observation made with an abstracted wonder, without rebuttal or repudiation. Like a discovery found to be surprisingly pleasant. “Which is why I know it’s always momentous for you.” A beat, as he considered an amendment. “With you.”

Gladio threw his head back and uttered an unintelligible cry aimed at the rafters, his hips rolling in inexorable pleasure. “Stop, I’m gonna nut right now if you keep saying sweet shit like that at me,” he laughed, his hands relinquishing their posts to smooth up the perfection of Ignis’ thighs.

Ignis pulled a wry smile, slapping Gladio’s hands away. “You won’t _nut_ at all, if you fail to remember what I asked of you.” He flicked his chin to indicate the headboard behind him. “Hands where they belong. Like I asked.”

Gladio replaced his hands as instructed, staring up at Ignis with a silent, scandalized wonder. “Yes, sir,” he laughed in breathless reverence.

Ignis didn’t check this time, but Gladio was summarily rewarded with the grace of Ignis’ hands mapping his scarred chest, marking the cicatrices that marred his skin with an adoring prudence. It was then Ignis happened upon the presence of his pebbling nipple, hardened as it always was with his arousal, and rolled it between his fingers, twisting it as slowly as he dared, and then tugging with equal measure.

Gladio groaned, his stomach tensing hard in accordance with his determination not to move. As instructed. And yet Ignis could feel the resurgent rise of Gladio’s cock against his ass—again— and encouraged its unassuming presence with a few strokes of a lubricant-slicked hand.

He let his fingers caress Gladio’s balls with an idle fondness, couching them within the gentle press of his palm. A momentary alteration. Just to keep him on his toes, before his hand was replaced upon the thickness of Gladio’s shaft. Ignis’ head tilted in recognition of a thought, his lips parting for a parturient moment before he spoke. “You may fuck yourself. Within my hand.”

Gladio swore something awful under his breath, but the cant of his hips was not an explosive, wild race to finish himself in the allowance of Ignis’s hand. It was a slow, luxuriating pace, metered by the serrated breaths that shuddered out of him, matching the tremor of his hips. Ignis did not move from where he knelt, the cincture of his fingers the only encouragement he offered. Slowly, surely, Gladio’s pace innervated in tandem with the tenor of his breathing: shallowing, quickening, until it was near racing with an ultimate desperation. Ignis knew by the tense of his cock that he was close, and it was at that moment of precipical accomplishment that Ignis’s fingers unfurled, slackening with a deliberate languor, and let Gladio’s cock fall away upon himself.

It was bestial, tortured: the seething, storming smoulder of his groans, muffled by the determined purse of his lips. Ignis could feel the writhe of Gladio’s hips between his knees. He waited—patiently—for the still of them, until Gladio settled back with a defeated moan. Only then did Ignis reach behind him again, renewing his original efforts at slowly working himself down upon his husband’s enormity.

Gladio’s breaths shuddered out, sharp and staccato, an occasional desultory moan catching in his throat, and Ignis grinned, noting how obediently Gladio’s hips stayed pinned to the bed in spite of the dangerously persevering flexion of his hips that informed him of just how desperately he’d fuck into Ignis if he could. 

If he dared.

And there was nothing so alluring in the world as knowing this man who had battled gods would bend and break himself so willingly to his will. Not his hand. But his will. 

Ignis felt beside his thigh for the toy, which sat heavy in his hand as he slicked it with the lube, holding it before him for Gladio’s beneficial view. “Bend your knees for me,” he asked quietly, and Gladio did so, providing him with a bolster on which to lean as he reached behind to stroke peremptorily at his balls. A fucking tease that preceded the idle dandle of his fingers upon the tight furl of his ass.

That much Gladio was helpless against, that feather-light touch that promised and portended an immeasurable infinity of pleasure that set his mind to racing faster than the fluttering measure of his heart. It was almost too much, the expectation that bloomed alongside the wanting that twisted and twirled just beyond his navel, the direness of his desire building to an unbearable, yet-unconsummated crescendo. Relief came marginally with the infraction of two silken-slick fingers as Ignis slipped them within. “You’ve been bad,” Ignis surmised, with a leisure that was betrayed by the purposeful crook of his fingers. “Look how easily they fit inside you.”

Gladio said nothing, chewing furiously at his lip as he fought to still his hips.

“Fingers or a toy?” Ignis asked mildly.

“My fingers.”

Interesting. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to fuck you.” Ignis could hear the words spat through the dam of his grinding teeth. “Because I always want to fuck you.” Gladio gasped down a breath at the slow draw of Ignis’ fingers. “Because I can’t look at you and not feel my mouth go dry wanting to taste you. And I don’t even care if I have you, or you have me. I just fucking want you.”

A beat. A tilt of his head. Then: “Did you come?”

The answer came immediately. “No. You know I don’t like to come without you.”

It wasn’t in reward or reprieve of that answer that Ignis replaced his fingers with the ingress of the vibrator. “Breathe,” Ignis commanded, pushing the toy in deeper, as slowly as he dared. “Don’t clench.”

Gladio did as he was told, to the utmost of his abilities, which were overwhelmed the second of the toy’s inclusion. A curse was hissed up into the rafters as his head tipped back in intoxication of that moment, and Ignis let out a laugh through his nose.

“So you pleasured yourself,” Ignis mused, twisting at the top of the vibrator to turn it on. “But not to completion?”

Gladio started with a jolt, and did his best to settle back, relaxing into it. “Yes.”

“Did it hurt? I imagine it did.”

Gladio thought back to those hours of sapphire blue balls he’d subjected himself to, that were hardly the penance he reasoned them to be. Not when he’d enjoyed a perverse satisfaction over them. “Yeah,” Gladio breathed, his lips now moving madly in a litany not quite as silent as he would have liked.

“What’s that?” Ignis asked.

“What’s what?”

“You’re saying something. Under your breath.”

Gladio groaned, knowing full well he’d been caught. “I wasn’t,” he lied anyways. Ignis’s hand came down sharply upon his thigh, drawing a sharp hiss that belied the spate of inexorable pleasure that suffused every inch of his skin.

“What are you saying?” he repeated, not without some amusement in his voice.

Gladio sighed in resignation. “I was … begging you to move.”

There was a contemplative silence, during which Ignis held the toy in place as he considered the connotations of that plea. “Do you think I can’t make you come if I don’t?”

The immediate and inevitable demonstration of that point came as Ignis pushed the vibrator in deeper, angling it upwards as he drew it out slowly, dragging the tip along his front wall, passing firmly against that bundle of nerves that had Gladio arching desperately into that sudden onslaught of voltaic pleasure. His hips ground into the mattress in fantic attempt to adhere to Ignis’ commands, a feat emphasized by the stuttering, gutteral cries Gladio could not hold back.

Atop him, Ignis pressed back into the brace of Gladio’s bent knee, one arm twining around it like a vine to hold himself fast, digging the point of it between his shoulder blades as he bore down to encourage the twitch of Gladio’s cock against his own sweet spot. He did not move in answer to the perceived dare, his hips stubbornly still as his hands worked Gladio’s ass with an increasing fervency. His impossibly thick cock thrummed like a heartbeat within him, pulsing and plangent, faster and fiercer with every frenetic twinge that brought him closer to the edge.

It was Ignis who came first, spilling himself with a shuddering cry, his hand planting hard upon a smattering of his own emissions upon Gladio’s chest. But his arm buckled beneath him, and he let himself fall into the fold of his body, into the envelopment of Gladio’s waiting arms that drew him close.

“Finish,” he urged him, his voice hoarse.

“What?”

The question irritated him enough in the vulgar clarity of his afterglow he almost didn’t explain.

Almost.

“Finish yourself off,” Ignis instructed. “Inside me.” He turned his face into the warmth of his shoulder, biting needfully at his inked skin. “I want you to come inside me.”

Gladio’s arm wove around Ignis’s slender waist, securing him to his hip as he sat up, situating himself to lean back against the headboard he was only just captive to. It was blessedly easy, to guide Ignis down upon his hardness, and the perfect slip of him was enough to draw another groan from lips that parted to pray his name.

Gladio’s hands were nothing gentle upon the crests of his hips, pressing weals into his skin as he gripped him with a punishing force, driving his hips down to meet the snap of Gladio’s in a frantic pursuit of the repletion denied him twice now. Not for a third, if he could help it.

But it was nearly all too much, Ignis’s skin igniting with a voltaic surge of pain that was sometimes pleasure and sometimes pain again, blurring the certainty of what he wanted.He wasn’t hard. He wasn’t ready yet, still firmly in his refractory period. But it was a question answered when he felt Gladio strain for the last time within him, a stentorian groan muffled against his shoulder as he came as he was told. His teeth snagged mercilessly along the razor-sharp ridge of Ignis’s collarbones, and without warning or prescience, Ignis came again with a high cry.

Gladio’s eyes were wide, startled as he was, realizing what happened and reaching around to cradle Ignis’s softened cock in his hand. “That was different,” he mused stupidly, thumbing circles along the tip, kissing the curve of Ignis’s neck as he jerked and shuddered against him.

Ignis gave himself a moment to lay boneless within his arms, panting to regain his breath. “You liked it,” Ignis surmised. “I knew you would.”

Gladio laughed. “What can I say? I’m easy about you.”

“Yes,” Ignis confirmed, letting his head loll back into Gladio’s shoulder, tucking himself neatly under his chin. “Yes, you are.” He sighed again. “Was it all you ever wanted? My virgin incursion into domination?”

Gladio rolled over to settle himself between his thighs, propping himself up on an elbow to allow himself a proper look at his fuck-flushed face. “This,” he breathed, brushing back the ashen hair at his temple to apply a kiss there. “I’ve wanted this my whole life. And I’ve never wanted it with anyone but you. You made a joke earlier. About my being bored. I know it was a joke. But the thing is, you never have to worry about … things being new or exciting or … whatever. Because when it comes down to it, nothing compares to the person who is … your literal and absolute favorite. Who makes everything exponentially better. Just by being there.”

“Like on your honeymoon?” Ignis quipped, brightly.

“Yeah, no, absolutely, big ups to you for showing up to the honeymoon, because honestly, it would have been a sad wank into a pillowcase without you.” Gladio kissed his fingers and shot them at the rafters in acknowledgement of whatever celestial had a hand in that blessed fate.

“I’m glad to see you’ve evolved past the use of that gym sock I saw haphazardly stuffed under your mattress when I’d visited your house that first time,” Ignis sighed, nodding thankfully.

“First of all, I was a teenager, if you don’t mind,” Gladio began flatly. “And B, how do you even remember that? Thirdly, how’s that for some character development? You impressed yet?”

Ignis cocked his head, thinking. “Mm,” came his noncommittal reply.

“You know, sometimes a guy benefits from a few asspats here and there,” Gladio informed him. “For future reference. As a guy married to someone who occasionally likes asspats. Thought you might like to know.”

Ignis laughed. “Of course,” he agreed loftily. He reached down to smack just under Gladio’s hip, with enough vigor to be the sort of suggestive he knew he’d respond to. “We’ll get to those next round. If you like.”

“Infernian’s cock, no, you can’t just say shit like that and not expect me to get fucked up about it,” Gladio cried, burying his face in the mess of Ignis’s hair.

“Well, I don’t see why not,” Ignis returned, affecting a scandalized air as he pretended to suffer the demand of Gladio’s mouth against the hollow of his throat. “Especially when you seem so ill-prepared to sustain your threats with any corroborative action.”

The curse Gladio breathed was fantastically inelegant, a herald to the veil of the bedsheet pulled over their heads, ensconcing them in a private idyll of low laughs and immodest vows, and a small infinity of kisses that promised a lifetime and more of nights like this.


End file.
